


Early Morning

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Domestic Life [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games), Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Mirage | Elliott Witt, Breakfast, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Cock Tease, Dancing, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Mirage | Elliott Witt Being an Idiot, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Smut, Swing Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, top bloodhound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: Elliott wakes up early to surprise Hound. It doesn't go as planned.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage, Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Domestic Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549738
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Early Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all look, I remembered how to write fluff :D
> 
> (thanks to Kit for beta'ing this bitch. We're bother suckers for adorable shit like this)
> 
> NOT A PART OF LESSONS THIS IS IT'S OWN THING THEY AIN'T CONNECTED
> 
> SORRY

Elliott sighed, hand on his hip as he flicked through the recipe on his phone.  _ “Simple my ass,” _ he thought, trying to retrace his steps and find out exactly where he’d messed up. He was the kind of cook who could burn water, so he’d gone easy on himself. Pancakes were simple enough and the addition of blueberries shouldn’t have made it any harder. And yet, it looked like a bomb had gone off in the kitchen and the batter more closely resembled glue rather than something edible. The mixer had been turned all the way up by accident and had splattered it on every available surface, even throwing droplets of it into his hair. His black shirt was covered in flour and his hands were stained purple with berry juice. Music poured into the kitchen from a speaker on top of the breadbox so he could at least tap his feet in time with the rhythm as he tried to unfuck this colossal disaster. 

The music had been part of the problem. Once he’d caught a tempo it was over. He’d been dancing around the kitchen wildly, unafraid of being seen, since he lived on the top floor of a mega complex. He’d been so busy jamming out that he hadn’t really been paying attention to the measurements. There couldn’t have been  _ that _ much of a difference between half a cup and a third. They were pretty close so it should have been just fine. He hadn’t bothered to read the numbers on the measuring cups or spoons, and now they sat in a heaped pile while he skimmed the blog desperate for answers. No one else apparently had the same problem he did. It was all more or less the same.

_ “Oh my husbands a picky eater but by golly he loves this!” _

_“I’m vegan, so I replaced the eggs with soy, the milk with soy, and the sugar with non-gmo stevia and also the flour with oats because gluten gives you cancer.”_

He groaned in defeat, dropping the phone on the counter and pressing his hands to his face. The music behind him was uplifting, but he needed something akin to a power ballad if he was going to try and make this work. The sunrise from the kitchen window was beautiful but it just made him want to crawl back into bed and forget any of this ever happened. It was embarrassing being thirty and unable to make the most basic of things, but he’d let his head drift off into the songs like he always did and gotten distracted. Cooking was hard and required too much attention to detail for his taste. 

“God,” he said exasperated, talking aloud to himself, “ At least I have an excuse to go out n-AH!”

Elliott jumped a foot in the air when he turned to see that Hound had materialized behind him, leaning on the wall with their hands in the pockets of their pajama bottoms. They had a bad habit of appearing from nowhere and Elliott swore they did it just to mess with him. The sleep still clung to them heavily, purple bags taking up residence under their eyes, which blinked at him slowly as they adjusted to the light. Their glasses sat crookedly on their nose with one of the massive circular lenses sitting beneath the top of their eye. It was a wonder they could ever see out of them since the thin, gold frames were always just slightly bent out of place. It reminded Elliott of how librarians always had them too low on their nose, though Hound’s were usually oil streaked from their tinkering, on top of being crooked. The tubes that wove in and out of their chest were mostly exposed, the tank top doing little to cover them. Their hair was full cowlicks, a mess of white spikes that only grew worse as they ran their fingers through it in an attempt to tame the unruly locks. 

“How long have you been there?!”

“Mmm,” they groaned, ignoring the question “Elliott, what in god’s name are you doing?”

“Husbandly duties,” he said matter-of-factly, temporarily forgetting his failure and instead beaming from ear to ear as he flashed the new band that adorned his finger. Hound looked down at the matching one on their own hand and smiled. “I’m being thoughtful and making you breakfast.”

Hound coughed and gestured to the wreck that was their kitchen. “Oh, is that what this is?”

Elliott crossed his arms. “I found some new songs and I got distracted.”

“Again?” they said, disbelief evident in their voice.

Hound walked into the kitchen and looked down at the pancake batter. They stirred it, lifting the spoon and grimacing at the wet sucking noise it made as they wrenched it from the bowl. Their nose wrinkled in disgust when the batter fell back into the bowl with a wet, heavy slap. 

“It looks like cement.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

They popped one of the blueberries in their mouth and Elliott smiled watching them. Hound was a fiend when it came to sweet things and refused anything even remotely sour or bitter. Sweet fruits were their favorites and it was unbearable sometimes to watch them digging through piles of it at supermarkets to find ones up to their lofty standards. They had a small blueberry bush on their balcony that Hound guarded with their life from pesky birds other than their raven, and even then Artur wasn’t allowed near it without supervision. Hound had plans to replant the bush once the house they were getting built was finished, and Elliott knew they were likely going to have a small orchard in their backyard if Hound got their way. They’d insisted on an acreage, away from the prying eyes of the press, and somewhere they could both relax in when they weren’t prepping for a game. He loved the idea, but just the idea of having to help Hound care for a massive garden made his back hurt. With their joint problems, he wasn’t sure if they could do it alone.

“Your dancing is hazardous to our apartment.”

“You’re just jealous I’m a better dancer than you.”

Hound narrowed their eyes. “Kær, I am not sure that qualifies as dancing.”

Elliott smiled. They never called him pet names in English. They were insistent that it sounded better than “dear”. 

“You’re one to talk. You can barely dance, you always step on my feet!”

Hound bristled. “I can dance just fine, thank you.”

“Babe,” he said with a grin, “You’re cute when you’re indignant, but we both know it’s true.”

Elliott grabbed his phone and started flipping through songs. “I might have something for you then, if you’re so sure.”

“Pardon?”

Satisfied with his choice, Elliott put the phone down and walked over, offering his hand. “Put up or shut up, Hound.”

They scowled, glasses sliding down their face further. “Very well.”

Light, energetic music started to pour from the phone speakers and Elliott snatched Hound’s hand to pull them into the kitchen. It caught them off guard and they stumbled forward, but Elliott stepped into it and took the opportunity to place his other hand on their waist and grin up at them. Hound glared, but before they could protest he spun them around and laughed when they couldn’t keep their balance. “Footwork Hound, footwork! C’mon, this is basic stuff!”

It was amazing how they could go from practically dancing around enemy squads in the arena, to tripping on their own feet and barely keeping themselves upright. Elliott wasn’t going easy on them, and somehow it was still satisfying after all their years of being together to show off whenever he could. He had to get up on tiptoes to spin them properly, but watching them get flustered trying to keep up was hilarious. Usually Elliott could trip just walking in a straight line, but in this area he had the advantage. He’d been the king of the party scene at clubs, which meant learning how to dance to anything. Once he found the rhythm, he was unstoppable. Hound, though usually more coordinated, was the opposite. 

He couldn’t yank them around without risk of hurting their wrists, and since they weren’t wearing any of their braces he had to be extra careful. Usually their shoulders were the most troublesome, but today it looked like their body was cooperating. Sometimes the pain kept them from leaving bed, but the bad days weren’t too often and it was usually at a level where Hound could manage it. It was chronic and so it never truly left them, but they usually took it easy and wore the braces to keep it steady. Despite doctors bugging them about it, Hound hated wearing the braces, and Elliott couldn’t really blame them. They were inflexible and uncomfortable, but if they wanted to avoid constant dislocations it was their best option. He could see the colorful athletic tape on their wrists, which they usually preferred until it tugged on their arm hair. It served the same purpose but was slightly less effective. They joked that most days they were more tape than skin, but Elliott thought the bright flashes of neon tape made them look like a colorful zebra. Hound had thought it was funny too. 

Elliott thought he still had the advantage of Hound being tired, but they had already started to prove him wrong. They were a quick study, and as they shook off the sleep their feet began to move faster and he didn’t have to lead quite as much to bring them into the steps. They began to adapt to him, moving their foot forward when he moved back and swinging their hips in time to the music, but it still managed to look stiff and uncoordinated. Elliott saw their face and couldn’t help but give in to a fit of giggles. 

“What is so funny?”

“I’ve never seen someone look so  _ serious  _ while they’re dancing.”

Hound’s movements were becoming more fluid, but they didn’t look happy about it. In fact, they looked extremely inconvenienced at having to rise to Elliott’s challenge. They were biting at their bottom lip trying to stay focussed and not get tangled up in Elliott’s legs. Hound was fairly lanky, but still strong enough that they could pull him around no problem if he gave up the lead. It was their version of healthy competition, but even despite their expression he knew they were enjoying themselves. They didn’t dance together very often, but Elliott could trust that they’d always catch his hand to pull him back in, and they knew his enthusiasm would keep them both going even if mistakes were made. 

“You look quite pleased with yourself, Sólskin.”

“I’m just happy you’re finally figuring it out,” he teased.

Sólskin. Sunshine, his favorite out of their many nicknames for him and it never failed to warm his heart. Hound often wasn’t as expressive as he was, but they were poetic in their own way and never hesitated to tell him how his smile could light up their day. It was sappy and a little cliche, but it sounded so genuine when they said it that Elliott didn’t mind. They were old fashioned in the best of ways, holding open doors and bending at the waist to kiss the back of his hand before leaping out of the dropship with him. They’d started as partners in arms and ended up as partners in life, and Elliott wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

He remembered their ceremony and how intimate it had been. It had been on the summer solstice, and Elliott could remember the smell of incense in the air and the cheering of his family as they’d tied the chords around their joined hands. The ceremony had been Hound’s idea, something more traditional which suited him just fine since it meant he didn’t have to wear a suit. He’d joked about how the smoke from the bonfire was never going to get out of his shirt, but seeing the firelight dancing in their eyes was worth it. Hound didn’t sing often, but they’d joined in when the drummers had started playing and it was another moment on his list of things he’d never forget. Their voice seemed to resonate with the very forest around them, and although he hadn’t understood a single word of it, Elliott had known it was something with meaning. Dancing while conjoined at the hands had been a challenge and the entire time his mother had been teasing him about how it was an important life lesson about cooperation. As the night had ended, they’d just scooped Elliott up and carried him when his feet were too sore. They’d walked away together, flowers tucked behind each others ears with Hound’s collar long since gone astray, but still holding hands even after the chord had been removed. Eventually they’d gotten rings made, but they were resin with bits of the chord encased inside instead of gold. Whenever they couldn’t wear it, Elliott knew they kept it instead on a chain under their shirt. 

There were no stars looking down on them or raging fire now, but Elliott’s heart still raced when they’d look him in the eyes. It was intense, but a familiar intensity and a constant reminder of how lucky he truly was. 

Feeling emboldened, he moved his hand to their lower back and dipped them, but he’d misjudged how far he could support their weight and the pair went tumbling to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs. Hound landed on their elbows and Elliott on their chest, and he looked up at them sheepishly. They shook their head as if disappointed, but Elliott knew they were just doing it to make fun of him. 

“And you say I am clumsy.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so heavy,” he argued back. 

Rolling their eyes, Hound sat up and got their hands under his armpits. They hoisted him back up but placed him on the counter instead of on his feet. “Aww,” he gushed, “My hero.”

Elliott leaned back, but an idea popped into his head. “Ooo, hang on.”

He dipped his finger into the bag of sugar on the counter and dabbed it onto his lips. He gave an exaggerated wink and pursed his lips. “C’mon, gimme some sugar Hound.”

Stone faced, they pushed their glasses up and off their nose to rest on their forehead. 

“Uh, why are you doing that.”

“So I no longer have to witness you embarrassing yourself like this.”

“ _ Wow.” _

Hound stepped closer and Elliott took the opportunity to wrap his legs around their waist, and looked up at them under his lashes doing his best to look annoyed. They just leaned in close to place a chaste kiss on his lips, ignoring his pouting.

“Bleh.”

Hound drew back, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Elliott stuck his tongue out to emphasize his disgust. “Morning breath. It smells like the steak we had last night.”

“Hm, guess I will have to kiss elsewhere then.”

He sighed contentedly as they kissed along his brow, lips soft and warm against his skin. They kissed down his nose and each of his eyelids, so gentle like they were afraid they’d break him. They seemed intent on kissing every inch of his face, not stopping their mission even when he laughed again. “Jeez, Bloodhound is apparently pretty accurate. You’re like a dog, can’t stop giving kisses.”

Hound broke off. “You talk too much.”

“No I do-eew!”

Elliott squealed as they sloppily licked his face, leaving a clammy trail of saliva dripping down his cheek. “God, what’s wrong with you? That’s so gross!”

“You started it. After all, you are the one who insisted I am like a dog,” they said, shiteating grin plastered on their face. 

“Get back here,” Elliott grumbled. 

It was more insistent this time, pressing harder against his lips as their fingers traced the skin above his waistband. Elliott pushed back, letting his fingers snake up their neck and into their hairline, careful to avoid the tubing in their throat. He’d tease them that they enjoyed being petted too much because they purred like a cat whenever he touched their hair, but they’d just roll their eyes at him. Their tongue licked at his bottom lip until he relented, and Hound took every bit of space he gave up. Their hands were cold against his ribs, but the rest of them was warm and comforting. He shivered when they turned their attention to his neck, sucking a small mark into the tanned skin. Elliott rested his head on their shoulder, but raised an eyebrow when they stopped.

“Watch the stubble,” they hissed.

Relishing the chance for payback, he rubbed his chin against the sensitive skin until they batted his head away and looked disapprovingly at him. Elliott pressed his tongue against his lower lip, and sighed dramatically. “You don’t appreciate me.”

“Oh?”

“Nope,” he said, turning his head away, “Don’t appreciate anything I do. Here I am, trying to cook you breakfast and you just complain and distract me.”

“Mm, I will have to rectify that, then. Hold on.”

“Wait, what?”

Hound picked him up off the counter and swiveled around back in the direction of the bedroom. Elliott hung on for dear life, knowing from past experience that they had no issue dropping him if he couldn’t hold himself up. They pushed the door aside with their foot and laid him down on the bed before climbing on and straddling him. “This will have to come off,” they said, tugging at his shirt. 

Elliott did as he was told, despite the surprising shift in mood, but pointed at their own clothes. “No fair. I’m the only one getting naked.” 

“All things in due time.”

Bloodhound lowered their face to his chest and kissed along his collarbones, nipping at the skin and slowly sliding their hands down his hips. “What are you doing?”

“Appreciating you.”

“Ah.”

Elliott laid back and let Hound do as they pleased. They ran their tongue over his nipple without warning, and a small squeak spilled out from his mouth and he felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. Hound dropped to their head to his chest and laughed into his skin. “Elliott, what was  _ that? _ ”

“Shut up,” he murmured, playfully swatting them as they chuckled, “You know I’m sensitive.”  
“I know,” Hound said, sounding extremely pleased, “It works in my favor.”

Elliott covered his face with his hands, intent on smothering anything else but Hound grabbed his elbow. “No, I want to see you.” He peaked through his fingers before begrudgingly moving his arms to his sides. “You are much too beautiful to be covered up.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweet-talker?”

Hound was kissing along his hip bones, slowly pulling down the waistband and keeping their touch just light enough that it was driving him crazy. Their nails ran down his sides and he shivered, the sensation enough that his nerves felt like they were on fire. They traced circles over his chest before dipping back down to his hips, and with every pass the skin grew warmer and more sensitive. Hound was much more patient than he was, and he knew from experience they could tease him for hours until it was almost painful. “It is the truth. So beautiful, and I am so grateful that you are mine.”

Elliott saw their hand on his knee, and the golden threads wrapped around their finger. He whimpered as their eyelashes brushed the skin of his inner thigh, and he lifted his hips hoping they’d give him some kind of release. Their breath was warm against his skin, and when their lips brushed against the head of his cock he felt like he was going to melt. Hound looked up at him over their glasses, not breaking eye contact as they licked from the head to the base and back. It was such a filthy look, and Elliott knew his face was a bright red. Hound knew exactly what they needed to do to get him where they wanted. If this was their way of showing appreciation he was happy, but he wished they’d do it faster. He tried to push against their face, but Hound had a hand on his hip bone and kept him still. “My turn to lead.”

Elliott’s groan turned from one of discontent to one of pleasure as Hound continued tormenting him, letting their lips brush against the head but refusing to take it into their mouth. With every pass they’d open their mouth only a fraction more, kissing along the shaft and working Elliott up until he felt ready to explode. Only when he started to whine in protest did they give him what he wanted, sliding it past their lips and keeping eye contact over the rims of their glasses and  _ fuck  _ they were just being cruel now. They kept a slow pace, putting on a show as they curled their fingers around the base and squeezed. Usually Elliott was the one performing for them, but Hound could be quite the entertainer if they so desired. 

Hound stopped him from moving for as long as they could, but Elliott always squirmed when they’d tease him like this. He couldn’t help it. Even tied up he’d fidget as much as he could. They’d edge him closer and closer before shoving him off entirely, but now he wanted more of them. Hound seemed able to read his mind, since they stopped to cover their fingers with saliva and ever so slightly traced his hole. Elliott braced himself, knowing that Hound was intent on making him feel good even if it took all damn morning. 

Their finger slid in with little resistance. He was still stretched from the night before, and the memory just increased his arousal. It somehow felt like both nothing and everything all at once. He wanted more of them since a finger was barely anything, but his senses were running so high that just the small amount of contact was like fireworks under his skin. It was a frustrating balance to be stuck in, but Hound must have had a merciful streak because they slipped another in and crooked their fingers. They knew where the sweet spot was, but with where they had him he wouldn’t last very much longer. 

“A-ah, s-stop,” he sputtered, “I don’t w-want to c-come like this.” 

Hound smiled and lifted themself off him, the lack of contact momentarily making Elliott regret his decision. “How do you want it?” they purred. 

Elliott didn’t think his face could have gotten any redder, but leave it to Hound to surprise him. “I am waiting, Sólskin.”

“C-can I be on top?”

“Of course.”

Hound pulled him up into a sitting position and laid on their back, hands resting casually behind their head. Elliott rolled his eyes and swung his leg over their hips, adjusting until he was kneeling comfortably on top of them. If he’d still been wearing his clothes, he would have said Hound was undressing him with their eyes. More accurately, despite their relaxed position, the look in their eyes was clear. Get a move on, or they’d be taking back control. 

Hound’s eyes closed as he sunk down onto them. They fluttered for a moment as they exhaled, moving their hands to rest on his thighs. Hound liked to watch him, but he loved to see what he did to them too. Their face screwing up as he rolled his hips, their own soft moans that he always wanted more of, how they could never keep their hands off him, he loved seeing all of it. It was a stretch, but worth it to feel them inside him. No one had ever touched him like they did. No one had ever _ loved _ him like they did, and for the latter he would be eternally thankful. 

“F-fuck,” he moaned. Elliott was shaking, so he put his hands on Hound’s chest for balance and kept going. Their hand wrapped around his cock again, and Elliott thought he’d come right then. Hound’s strokes weren’t even, their concentration broken and he knew they were close, too. 

“Gods, you feel _so_ _good_.” 

Elliott let out a breathy laugh. “So do you.”

Hound’s face was flushed as they pushed back into the pillow. Their cheeks always went a bright pink, and if he looked close enough, he could see the fluid racing through the tubes as their heart beat faster. Elliott’s own heart felt like it was racing too fast for the rest of him to keep up. His throat grew tight as they rolled their hips up, filling him and making his toes curl.

“Ah,  _ Elliott _ ,” they whispered his name like a prayer, a confession only meant for him. 

They gave a final, shaky sigh as their hips jerked up, and Elliott felt them thrust deep into him as they came. Hound always squeezed their eyes shut and tensed up when they did, taut as a bowstring. He could see the muscles in their arms as they flexed, pressing their fingertips into his skin. Their back arched, their grip tightened around his cock and Elliott broke. They came together, Elliott’s cry mixing with their own. Hound’s hand kept him pinned down, and he loved to come with them still inside him. It heightened the intensity of everything, and he couldn’t help his body as it trembled. 

When the first wave passed him, another wave of exhaustion snuck up on him. He’d gotten up so early so he could surprise Hound, but now he was just tired and shaky from the orgasm. He raised himself off their cock and leaned forward into their chest, prompting a surprised grunt from Hound. Their stomach was warm with his release, but he was suddenly too sleepy to care. 

“G’night.”

“Elliott?”

“Mm?”

“Get off of me.”

Elliott made a big show of sighing and rolled off of them, settling for curling up at their side and nuzzling their neck.

“I said off.”

He yawned. “I’m not on you.”

“You are clinging.”

“Get used to it.”

Hound huffed, but turned on their side and wrapped their arms around him, burying his face into their chest. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of woodsmoke that impossibly seemed to follow them no matter where they went. It was secure, and soothing, just like they were. Hound placed a kiss on the top of his head and pulled the blanket back up over them, the top of it just below his nose. Every inch of him was warm, and Elliott could forget the growling in his stomach for a moment if it meant he could remain there a bit longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like my series Lessons it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you  
> https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
> Best relationship advice I've ever been given is if you can't laugh during sex with them, you're with the wrong person. My boyfriend and I have been gay as shit together for over 2 years, so clearly it's good advice :D But also, ayyyy look at me! Writing not torture porn for once :D Bully for me. Though it's still porn so lmao it doesn't fully count. Although I am writing something extra nasty, so it also balances out. 
> 
> Folks here from Lessons will recognize my Bloodhound head canon, though I won't go into details cuz it's spoilers for future Lessons chapters. This headcanon, HOWEVER, is NOT entirely the same, so it won't be the same one I discuss in Lessons. All y'all need to know is they bones and joints hurt. 
> 
> Speaking of, I haven't started that new chapter yet. Oops
> 
> This isn't the fluff piece I mentioned in the authors notes for Bait btw. That's still in the wings and involves Elliott's mom :D
> 
> Also RE2 is the best and both Leon and Tyrant are my husbands. 
> 
> Cheers
> 
> kthnxbye


End file.
